


but you're my president

by miskate



Category: haikyuu
Genre: ???? - Freeform, Angst, Crack, Gen, I really don't know, Other, i made an ao3 for this bullshit, tbh i don't fucking know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-14 19:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13597002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miskate/pseuds/miskate
Summary: obama receives a call from a japanese boy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> y'all idek i saw kuroo tetsurou/barack obama tag and just? 
> 
> kuroobama for the fucking win.

barack obama watched cars passing by outside his window, wine glass in hand. it has been months since he stepped down from presidency. 

and it has been months since he last saw him. 

obama sighed as he recalled the day he last saw a certain raven-haired boy the day he gave his last speech before handing his position to the wrinkly orange man child. it was such a bittersweet feeling to have him watch as he gave his final goodbyes to the white house and to his supporters. 

just then, his phone rang. his personal cellphone. 

'who would be calling me on my personal cellphone in the middle of the night? michelle and the kids are already asleep so it can't be them. then who...?' he thought as he pulls out his cellphone. 

a gasp escaped his lips as he read the name that was flashing on his screen. 

"...tetsurou...?" he said under his breath. 

he couldn't believe it. tetsurou kuroo was calling him. after months. 

he hesitated to answer the phone. there was a chance that this could be some sick prank on him. however, there was also a chance that it may really be kuroo. 

obama wanted to believe in the latter, thus accepting the call. 

there was silence on both ends, neither one willing to speak up. there were only the sounds of inhales and exhales. 

after a few good minutes of no talking, obama couldn't take the silence anymore. 

"...hello?"  
"obama-san."

his voice hitched at his own name leaving the lips of the cat-like boy on the other end of the line. 

"what is it, tetsu—"  
"you need to come back to office. please." 

his heart broke at the desperation in kuroo's voice. 

"but you're japanese, what does it matter?"  
"the people are suffering, obama-san. your people."

he knew. he knew that america was suffering under the tyranny of donald trump. he knew all too well. 

"i can't do anything about it, though, tetsurou. my time is up."  
"but...can't you at least try? try for your people?" kuroo said, now pleading. 

it hurt obama to hear kuroo sounding so weak. so desperate. but he knew he couldn't do anything about it. there's nothing left for him to do except watch the nation he loved so much spiral downward. 

"tetsurou, i'm sorry. but i can't do anything."  
"but, obama-san—!"  
"no. tetsurou, i have to go to bed now. it's late. goodnight."  
"obama-sa—"  
"goodnight, tetsurou. sweet dreams." with that, he hung up the phone. 

he looked at the half-empty wine glass on his hand and swirled it around for a bit before drinking the wine down to the last drop. 

_"i'm sorry, tetsurou."_


	2. and i'm your japanese boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kuroo is sulking in his bedroom while kenma's confused as fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i exerted my very last brain cell into this fic and now i'm brain dead.
> 
> shout out to auren she's my wife.

“kuro, please open the door.” kenma pleaded, standing in front of kuroo’s bedroom door.

after that short conversation (if it can be called that) with the former president of the united states, barack obama, he had locked himself from the outside world for the past two weeks.

since that call, he didn’t attend practice. hell, he didn’t even attend school altogether. his heart was too broken— he was too broken to even have the energy to talk and even eat, much less go out and about.

 

 “no, kenma. just leave me alone.”

 

 the pudding head clenched his fist as he took a shaky inhale.

 _‘how can kuro act like this? why does trump winning the elections bother him so much?!’_ he thought.

 

“don’t you want to play volleyball with the team?”

“kenma, i can’t. i just—”

“just  ** _what?!_** ” kenma slammed his fist unto the door. it was a rare sight to see and hear kenma so angry—so _aggressive._ this even has him taken aback a bit as this was not in his nature.

 

but right now he did not care.

 

“kuro, what does it matter to you that he is no longer president of a country you even have never lived in?! why do you even care?!”

 

It was now kuroo’s turn to raise his voice.

 

“you don’t understand! _**you would never understand** **!!**_ ”

“i _**really**_  don’t and i really won’t if you don’t _**explain**_  yourself!”

“we— what obama-san and I had was _special_! one day, suddenly, he took my heart out like a surgeon on crack. It was so sudden and yet so exciting.”

 

there was a hint of delight in kuro’s voice as he recalled all the things he loved about obama.

 

“he was tall and his voice was like music to my ears. his smile could light up the darkest of days. and...he loved his people and he would do anything for them.”

 

kuro balled his hands into fists and his voice began to waver.

 

“but...b-but then his time ran out and he knew that. he knew and yet he left the white house with a smile on his face. the smile i once fell in love with. i- i just don’t understand, kenma, how an orange like _donald trump_ got into office. that got into the same position as he did.”

a ‘tch’ escaped his lips as tears began to slide down his cheeks.

“h...he doesn’t _deserve_ to be called president! only obama-san is worthy of that title! **_he’s my president!_** ”

 

despite kuroo "explaining" himself, kenma was still at a loss. what came out of his mouth was just silence. deafening silence. and neither dared to even speak.

 

with the silence that fell between the two, kenma tried to rack his brain through all the possibilities as to why kuroo was the way he is now. did he somehow fall from a flight of stairs and landed on his head? or was a volleyball to the head what undid the screws?

 

whatever the possibilities were, it didn’t matter. not anymore. if kenma tried to even find the logical sense behind all this mess, he feared he, too, would go mad.

 

however, there was one thing kenma wanted to know.

 

“kuro...you’re just a japanese boy...so why does it matter so much to you?”

“I’m not just a japanese boy, kenma...

 

 

 

i’m _his_ japanese boy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end of this fic. 
> 
> i don't know anymore. 
> 
> happy pride everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> i'd say sorry but i won't mean it.


End file.
